


Baker's Dozen

by Moosie



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bakery AU, Bilbo is a baker, Everyone means well, Fili and Kili are just trying to be helpful, Frodo loves them, I have no idea what I wrote tbh, M/M, Thorin is awkward, at first, long fic, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-03
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-02-07 05:34:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1886910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moosie/pseuds/Moosie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Yes? Might I help you?” Bilbo asked.</p><p>“Are you Bilbo Baggins, the proprietor of this shop?” the man asked, and Bilbo blinked at hearing the deep, rough voice speak so smoothly.</p><p>“Yes, I am.” Bilbo frowned, eyeing Thorin a bit. “Who would like to know?”</p><p>“Thorin Durin.” He pulled a card out of his jacket pocket, handing it to Bilbo. Bilbo looked at it, reading it over.</p><p>“Owner and CEO of Erebor Industries. I own the shop a little ways down,” Thorin gestured down the street.</p><p>“The shop that’s been trying—and failing, might I add—to steal my business?” Bilbo rose an eyebrow.</p><p>“I was hoping to speak with you about business matters, you know your shop and all—”</p><p>Oh, so Thorin wanted the shop.</p><p>“I’m not selling the shop to you and I refuse to merge with your company."</p><p>And with that, Bilbo promptly slammed the door in Thorin’s face and locked it, leaving the other man stunned, heading away.</p><p>Edit: Now with second chapter!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Majorly bullshitting now. But this is the first LONG fic I've ever written, and by that I mean the first fic I've written that's not a chapter fic thats long. Get what I'm saying? But yes, Bilbo is a patissier(sp?) but because I couldn't remember that word whenever I got ready to type it I just used the word baker >_>; I don't think I did the romance aspect right but oh well. I managed to finish it today because we have to wait until tomorrow to leave for Chicago *whoopwhoop*

Bilbo Baggins ran Bag End, a little pastry and ice cream shop his father had built for his mother to prove he loved her. Bungo and Belladonna Baggins had been a team that worked hard to make delicious sweets for people, and they soon became well-known all over Middle-Earth as one of the greatest shops to ever exist. Everything was homemade, from the ice cream to the apple tarts, the brownies to the pumpkin cakes. They even grew their own tea leaves, fruits, and coffee beans (well, technically, the Gamgees next door grew the fruit and coffee beans). For a long while, Belladonna had rarely been home, going out instead to find exotic ingredients for her husband and bringing them back to their little shop. Bungo had been perfectly fine with that.

Bilbo had grown up in that shop, his family’s home just above it. Bilbo had always been rather skilled in pastry making, this he found out when he was but ten years old and his mother had exclaimed that his Apple-Cinnamon rolls were even better than Bungo’s (which had left her husband sulking for the majority of a week. To think, his ten year old son could do better!). Bilbo had seen his future in those Apple-Cinnamon rolls.

After he had finished high school, he had decided that a much better alternative to him taking fulltime courses in college was for him to take online courses in business and food certification to be able to take over the shop after his parents retired. His parents agreed with his decision whole heartedly, especially since Bilbo was a natural in the kitchen. If he could make nothing else, he could certainly bake.

(Thankfully enough he could cook when he got older, healthy meals and great feasts alike!)

He had just barely finished his classes and been given his food handler’s license when his parents were killed in a horrid car crash, leaving Bilbo, at age twenty-two, the sole proprietor of Bag End. The shop, which had been booming in business for a long time, was closed for one long year as Bilbo mourned his parents’ deaths. After his year of grieving, Bilbo opened the shop back up, much to everyone in the town’s delight. The shop stayed open twenty-four seven, but once a year it would close, on the anniversary of the Bagginses deaths.

But a few years later he attended his cousins Drogo and Primula’s funeral, two relatives that had been taken in an incident with a cruise liner. Their son, Frodo, was left alone, and Bilbo saw himself in the boy. At the funeral he talked with the social worker that had been looking for someone for Frodo to stay with and told her that he would take the boy. Frodo, familiar with his Uncle Bilbo and the baked goodies he used to bring around for family functions, had been fine with the arrangement, especially since it meant he could continue going to the elementary school he already attended.

Bilbo figured he and Frodo would live long and prosperous lives after all the bad that had happened to the two of them, undisturbed by change. Bilbo never factored in a family from another city moving into the city and stirring up trouble for him and Frodo.

Maybe the entire situation could have been avoided, if Frodo hadn’t gotten sidetracked on the way home from school.

Maybe it had all been inevitable in the end.

\------

Bilbo had been waiting for Frodo to arrive in the shop so that he could open for the second half of the day. He opened the shop in the morning from six a.m. to two p.m., closed the shop for an hour to wait for Frodo to get home and help him get settled as well as to bake more of whatever was beginning to dwindle in the display cases, and then he reopened the shop from three p.m. to seven, Frodo sitting at one of the many tables working on his homework or reading a book or in the back helping Bilbo out.

Today, however, Frodo hadn’t come home in the first half-hour like he was supposed to, which worried Bilbo instantly. Instead of thinking rationally and figuring that Frodo had been held after school and had simply forgotten to phone him, Bilbo took off his apron and hurried out of the shop, heading in the direction that Frodo usually walked home from school from. In the mornings, Bilbo had Frodo walk with the Gamgee’s boy, Sam, and Mrs. Gamgee herself. In the afternoon Frodo felt safe enough to walk by himself home, since everyone knew everyone in their town and people could be trusted to tell someone if something happened.

Bilbo asked Mrs. Proudfoot if she’d seen Frodo walk by just yet, and when she had said no Bilbo figured that Frodo _must_ be closer to the school, if not in it. He continued along the path until he spotted the familiar bright red backpack that belonged to his nephew. Sighing in relief, Bilbo hurried over, calling out to the boy who was gathered with so many other children around two tall boys, one a high schooler, the other probably a college kid.

“Frodo Baggins! You gave me a right scare!” Bilbo called, and Frodo looked back at his uncle. His pale face flamed up almost immediately with a blush, and he gave one last look to the two strange people before running over to meet his uncle.

“Sorry, Uncle Bilbo…” he murmured softly as Bilbo lifted him into his arms. Frodo was probably getting a little too big to be getting picked up, but until he started complaining about it Bilbo would continue doing it as he saw fit.

“I was so worried about you, you know that? Now we’re going to have to open the shop thirty minutes _late_ ,” Bilbo sighed. Frodo whined, because opening the shop thirty minutes late meant keeping it open thirty minutes later, which cut directly into Frodo’s free time. Maybe if he got his homework done early enough Bilbo would let him go upstairs at the usual time.

They went back to the shop and Bilbo put the sign that told the world that they would be opening later than usual into the window. He then went about helping Frodo unpack and cleaning him up for a brief tea. The entire process took thirty minutes, which was to be expected, and then the two of them were going back into the shop. Bilbo helping Frodo set up his little work station at the table closest to the counter and then he brought out the freshly made walnut and honey muffins as well as a fresh batch of peanut butter cookies.

Taking the sign down and then flipping the one on the door to “open” Bilbo set about preparing pots of coffee and tea alike when the bell on the door rang and alerted him to a customer.

“Hello, welcome to Bag End, your one stop destination for cookies, cakes, ice cream, and anything else that suits your fancy,” Bilbo recited the greeting from memory; his father had come up with it and required he say it every time someone new stepped into the shop. This was the first time he’d said it in a long while, when he saw that the people that had stepped in were the two that had kept Frodo’s attention earlier.

“Fíli! Kíli!” Frodo exclaimed once he’d lain eyes on the two.

“Frodo,” the two greeted, smiling, before they looked to Bilbo.

“We came to apologize for holding him up,” the blonde one started.

“But you were still closed when we came by at first,” the dark haired one continued.

“So we went waited until you were open!”

Frodo was practically bouncing in his seat. He looked at Bilbo who seemed slightly astonished.

“Uncle, Fíli and Kíli said that their Uncle was an intrepe- intrepenur!” Frodo said excitedly.

“An entrepreneur, darling?” Bilbo smiled.

“Yeah!” Frodo looked over at Fíli and Kíli. “I gave them some of the raspberry cookies you baked for me and they _really_ liked them!”

Bilbo looked at the two boys, an eyebrow raised. “Well, maybe they should try some other things then. I’m Bilbo Baggins.”

Bilbo held out his hand and the two stared before they remembered themselves. The blond one spoke first.

“Fíli Durin,” he took Bilbo’s hand and shook.

“Kíli,” the dark haired one repeated his brother’s actions. “Pleasure to meet you, Mister Boggins.”

Bilbo looked a little bewildered at that. “It’s Baggins.”

“Uncle Bilbo, Kíli said that he really likes ice cream! I told him that all your ice cream is homemade!” Frodo piped in. Bilbo glanced over at his nephew and then back at the two Durin boys.

“Really now?” Bilbo seemed slightly intrigued by this.

“I love ice cream. Fíli’s not one for it though, he’s more into cookies and the like,” Kíli glanced at his brother who shrugged a bit. Bilbo’s eyes practically twinkled and he was smiling a wide, comforting smile.

“Well, it’s a good thing I make both here, isn’t it?”

\------

Fíli didn’t know exactly _how_ he and Kíli had wound up with boxes upon boxes of sweets to bring home to their family until after they had the boxes and were headed back to their house. Fíli was driving when he glanced into the backseat and it suddenly occurred to him that the owner of the little shop, that that Bilbo Baggins fellow, had managed to get them to take home _six_ boxes of treats while only actually paying for four. Which still left them wondering how Bilbo had managed to get them to buy even _four_.

Kíli groaned and thumped his head on the dashboard. Fíli looked over him, knowing exactly what he was thinking before he even said it.

“Uncle is gonna kill us.”

\------

Somehow they could live with that, especially after they set the boxes of cookies and cupcakes on the counter and Kíli cracked open the quart of ice cream he’d gotten. He had bought cookies and cream ice cream because that was what Frodo had recommended to him. He grabbed a spoon and took his first mouthful. Almost instantly he practically _moaned_. The ice cream was light but at the very same time dense, the flavour of the cookies, also homemade, mixing perfectly with the creamy ice cream.

“By the Gods, this is heavenly!” Kíli looked at Fíli, who rose an eyebrow. He picked up one of the spice cookies Bilbo had given him, taking a bite and then looking incredulously at the pink box that was full of the baked goods. It tasted absolutely _delicious_ ; soft without being overly so while also practically melting in his mouth. He polished off four or five more and Kíli ate half of the entire quart before any of their family members found them.

Or, more specifically, before their cousin Dwalin found them and the sweets on the island counter in boxes that clearly weren’t Erebor made. Dwalin didn’t even have time to be angry at Fíli and Kíli for their Uncle before a chocolate chip cookies was being shoved into his mouth. He chewed tentatively, if only because he wouldn’t spit out a good cookie, even if it was the competition’s, and his eyes lit up as he stared down at the box.

“Who made these?” he demanded to know even as he took several more cookies.

“Do you know that shop down the way from Uncle’s? The only other shop in the entire city and the reason why we can’t get any sales?” Kíli asked. Dwalin, reminded of this knowledge, nodded slowly, the box that had held the chocolate chip cookies almost empty now.

“We went there after the owner came to see about his nephew. He was really sweet about everything, and he gave us two of these boxes for free. He didn’t even make Kíli pay for his ice cream, said it was “thanks for keeping his nephew entertained.” He was quite nice and didn’t even mind that we were the competition,” Fíli explained.

Dwalin looked at the box of cookies that was almost empty. He looked at Fíli, a bit of an inquisitive look on his face for a brief moment.

“Did you get—?”

“Yeah, we did,” Fíli gestured to one of the unopened boxes. Dwalin grabbed one of the tea plates and placed a few of the cookies in the box on it before disappearing from the kitchen.

Fíli and Kíli sat in silence for a long while before they heard their Uncle’s enraged shout because there was no way that these were the cookies he made earlier that day because they tasted much better than his and then he was storming down to the kitchen with Dwalin following behind him roaring with laughter.

The two brothers didn’t even get the chance to run before their uncle was upon them.

“Where. Did. You. Get. These?”

\------

Bilbo had just put Frodo to bed after they’d had dinner and Frodo had had a bath. Bilbo had then gone back down into the shop to prepare to close up. As per usual, his glass classes were very nearly empty, with only a few cupcakes and a few cookies left. Usually, he gave whatever was left over to his neighbors, the Gamgees, who enjoyed whatever he baked. He was preparing to pack up the last remaining sweets and head over when he heard a persistent knocking at the front door of his shop.

Looking up, Bilbo caught sight of a tall man standing in front of Fíli and Kíli who both looked rather nervous. The man wore a well-tailored suit that fit his large frame. He also had long, black hair that was streaked with grey. His eyes were as blue as a clear summer’s day, as cliché as that may sound, and Bilbo found that he rather liked the colour. He wondered if he could achieve it when he mixed the dye together for his icings. Maybe if he worked at it hard enough.

Bilbo smiled apologetically, gesturing to the sign outside his door. That didn’t seem to stop the man, however, and once again he was rapping his knuckles sharply against Bilbo’s door. Bilbo sighed, figuring that he wouldn’t be left alone, and walked over to the door. He unlocked it and pulled it open, putting on his most polite smile.

“Yes? Might I help you?” he asked.

“Are you Bilbo Baggins, the proprietor of this shop?” the man asked, and Bilbo blinked at hearing the deep, rough voice speak so smoothly.

“Yes, I am.” Bilbo frowned, eyeing Thorin a bit. “Who would like to know?”

“Thorin Durin.” He pulled a card out of his jacket pocket, handing it to Bilbo. Bilbo looked at it, reading it over.

“Owner and CEO of Erebor Industries. I own the shop a little ways down,” Thorin gestured down the street.

“The shop that’s been trying—and failing, might I add—to steal my business?” Bilbo rose an eyebrow. Thorin cleared his throat, preparing to speak when his youngest nephew cut him off.

“We’re really sorry for not telling you, Mister Boggins!” Kíli fidgeted where he stood. “I hope we didn’t seem like we were trying to trick you or anything.”

Bilbo looked between the boys and Thorin, who seemed a bit irate at having been cut off but he rolled his eyes in fond exasperation. He looked back at Bilbo.

“I was hoping to speak with you about business matters, you know your shop and all—”

Oh, so Thorin wanted the shop.

“I’m not selling the shop to you and I refuse to merge with your company.”

And with that, Bilbo promptly slammed the door in Thorin’s face and locked it, leaving the other man stunned, heading away. He turned off the lights and headed into the back, completely forgetting about his task of taking the containers of leftovers to the Gamgees. He was growing right sick of people asking him to sell his little shop to them or merge with their companies. Bag End was not going to anyone but Frodo if he could help it.

\------

Hamfast knew something was wrong with his best friend the moment he pulled open the back door to the shop. The kitchen was stuffy, meaning the ovens were still going, and that alerted him to the fact that Bilbo was stressed for one reason or another. If there was one thing that Bilbo had gained as a bad habit from his parents it was stress-baking. He leaned against the doorframe as he watched Bilbo stomp around preparing something, the ovens closed from what Hamfast could see but three of the four of them filled with baked goods.

“I see someone is upset,” he smiled once Bilbo had caught sight of him.

“Hamfast,” Bilbo greeted before going back mixing what appeared to be a chocolate cheesecake mix. Hamfast sat down on a stool, watching Bilbo move to and fro for a bit before asking his question.

“What’s bothering you?” he asked.

“What? Nothing! Nothing at all!” Bilbo shook his head as he poured what was in the bowl into a pan. He walked over to the fourth oven, the one he had dubbed his “cheesecake oven” and pushed the pan in.

“You’re a terrible liar, old friend,” Hamfast chuckled. “Tell me what ails you.”

Bilbo stopped flitting about and then sighed. He came over and sat on a stool as well, looking around at the kitchen his parents had left him. It really was wonderful, and it hadn’t really changed much in the eleven years since their death. During that year he’d grieved over their deaths it had pained him to take even a single step inside of it. Now he could walk about with ease, though from time to time he had to stop and look around to remember that they weren’t there to help him anymore.

Bilbo looked back to his best friend and then let out a long sigh. “You know that new shop down the street?”

\------

Thorin was positively fuming. He still could not believe that the short man, the Baggins fellow, had not only told him no before he could get his question out but had even slammed the door in his face! Dwalin had laughed the entire drive home and Fíli and Kíli had both tried extremely hard to keep their giggles in. In the end they had broken and laughed as openly as Dwalin had, leaving Thorin embarrassed.

“He is the most insufferable person I have ever met!” Thorin was ranting now.

“Insufferable? He knew what you were going to ask before you asked it and said no!” Dwalin snorted. “And I don’t blame him for that. He’s probably been getting offers like that for _years_.”

“Uncle, he really is nice though, we promise. He’s not always like that,” Kíli smiled.

“Frodo is a testament to that,” Fíli piped in.

Thorin simply growled and looked away, not even dignifying that with an answer. Maybe tomorrow he would go by after work and try again, when the shop was open and Bilbo couldn’t simply turn him away, especially if Thorin bought more of those cookies of his. Maybe they could try again, start things off on the right foot, and Thorin could try to get his question out this time instead of being immediately shut down.

Maybe Bilbo wouldn’t make it easy for him.

\------

“I already told you, no!”

“Would you just listen to me for a moment?”

“I most certainly will _not_ listen to you for any length of time!”

“It is a rather generous offer, I think if you would simply be reasonable you’d see—”

“I will not be bullied into selling my store, thank you very much, so you can just go and-and-”

“What?”

“Shove off!”

\------

Thorin didn’t know why the Baggins fellow wouldn’t sit down and be a rational adult. It was like he absolutely refused to when it came to Thorin, and Thorin just didn’t understand why. He had attempted to be charming and nice, but when that only got him rudeness in return then he had tried to just be Thorin, which meant that he was glaring and arguing and being all around unpleasant. That hadn’t worked in the slightest, not like Thorin thought it would, and then the other man went and told him to _shove off_!

Fíli and Kíli really weren’t making the situation any better, either. Seeing as neither really cared much for their Uncle’s ongoing spat with the shop owner they continued going and buying what they wanted. They made it a point of walking with Frodo home every day after school since Kíli only had a half day schedule and Fíli’s classes were later in the evening. Bilbo was warming up to them much better than he was their uncle, and he allowed them into the shop early if only because they were helpful in looking after Frodo.

Frodo absolutely _loved_ Fíli and Kíli. The Durin boys were like older siblings to him, and he was grateful for them being there to help him with his homework when his Uncle Bilbo was too busy. They adored him as well, because Frodo was this adorable little boy that looked up to them like _role models_ (which made Bilbo skeptical at times). It wasn’t long before they weaseled their way into his and Frodo’s daily lives.

Which, of course, led to Frodo and Bilbo being a part of theirs.

“Uncle is throwing a party soon,” Fíli said one day, sitting at the little table he, Kíli, and Frodo had claimed as their own. Customers were so used to seeing them at the table closest to the counter that they usually waved and greeted them.

“Is he now?” Bilbo asked, sounding the tiniest bit annoyed but mostly interested. Recently he had been bumping into Thorin more often around town; at the grocery store, on his way to Frodo’s school, in the little book shop he liked to go to in the evenings. Their huge fights had boiled down to simple banter, where they greeted each other were pointed glares and huffed out greetings. Bilbo was surprised to find (and would never admit) that at times he enjoyed their encounters, if only because they had become as much a part of his day as Fíli and Kíli had.

“You and Frodo should come,” Kíli added in, smiling when Frodo’s eyes practically lit up. Frodo turned to Bilbo.

“Can we Uncle? Please, please, please?” Frodo looked upon his Uncle with big blue eyes, his lower lip jutting out in the slightest of pouts, and Bilbo managed to resist for all of seventeen seconds before he cracked.

“Oh, fine. So long as the party isn’t on a school night,” Bilbo relented. Frodo looked to Fíli and Kíli, his eyes sparkling. Fíli produced an envelope from his jacket pocket.

“No worries. It’s this Saturday at six,” he smiled. Bilbo took the envelope and placed it beneath his cellphone, which stayed on the counter at all times during shop hours. He knew he wouldn’t forget it when he went upstairs, so it was the ideal place for it to be.

“There’ll be lots of good food and sweets, and there might even be a game or two,” Kíli told Frodo. Frodo was listening with rapt attention, practically bouncing in his seat.

“Are you sure your Uncle won’t mind?” Bilbo asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Not at all! I think he’ll be quite pleased to see you there.” Fíli’s eyes shined with mischief, and Bilbo narrowed his eyes at him but didn’t say more on the matter as another customer, Mrs. Alces, walked into the shop just then.

\------

Thorin didn’t know if he wanted to strangle his nephews or kiss them when they told him the news of Bilbo coming to the party. He and the shorter man’s fight had become less so, more flirting than anything else but Thorin was sure that Bilbo refused to call it that. He found himself growing attracted to Bilbo, if only because Bilbo had a sharp wit and even sharper tongue and he absolutely refused to submit to Thorin in any way possible. They butted heads but to Thorin it was an extremely enjoyable affair.

In the end Thorin decided he was satisfied with the arrangement and wrote down Bilbo and Frodo’s names on the list of attending guests. He wondered about that a bit; about whether or not it was a good idea for Frodo to attend since there wouldn’t really be any children running about the party but then he caught himself. Frodo was _not_ his nephew, and Bilbo felt better bringing him along than he would not say anything.

Thorin reclined in his chair and stared up at his ceiling in thought. He then grabbed a phone book and scoured its pages for the number he was looking for. Upon finding it, he dialed.

“Hello, thanks for calling Bag End, your one stop destination for cookies, cakes, ice cream, and anything else that suits your fancy. This is the catering line,” the voice on the other end was clearly the man his thoughts had been filled with as of late.

“Greetings, little one,” Thorin practically purred, and he could almost see Bilbo puffing up on the other end of the line and possibly considering hanging up.

“What do you want?” Bilbo asked, managing to resist the urge to slam the phone back down at that quip. He had made it clear to Thorin a long while ago that he _hated_ being called short, small, or any variation of the word.

“I’m having a party this Saturday and I was wondering if you would be willing to cater.”

Bilbo paused completely on the other line, having been stunned into silence at the request. He was the _competition_ , why was Thorin asking this of him? He had to take a moment to regain himself before he could actually reply.

“What would you like done?” he asked, hesitantly. Thorin leaned back in his seat.

“What do you have to offer?”

\------

Bilbo couldn’t believe he was running late. How could he have _done_ this? Stupid, stupid, stupid. He had promised Thorin he would arrive ten minutes early to set up his spread, and in the end he’d been forced to make Frodo wait while he finished up in his shop. Oh, if only his first oven hadn’t decided to quit on him! As old as it was it had been fine for nearing thirty-four years. But then again, when he thought about it like that, maybe it was time for the old thing to retire anyway.

The broken oven set him back a bit, and he ended up running late as an outcome of the setback. He had borrowed the Gamgees car to take all the pastries over to the grand party, and he arrived at seven, when the party was already in full swing and underway. Frodo was bouncing in his seat as they pulled up to the front gates. Bilbo showed the security his invitation and he had promptly been let through.

Bilbo pulled up and parked the Gamgees’ car in front of the large house, which was more mansion than house really, and set up the cart to push everything inside. He set up everything in an extremely specific fashion and had Frodo hold onto the cart as he pushed it inside the mansion once he was let in. From there he simply followed the signs to the backyard, heading through the house and looking around a bit before finally arriving at the back door.

Frodo was instantly fascinated by the huge backyard. There was a fountain in the center of it, large and inviting, and further back was a weeping willow tree that had a bench and a swing beneath it. A little off to the side was the buffet table and a long white table that was empty. Bilbo figured that was where he was supposed to set up at, and he looked around a bit before trying to make his way to the table without being seen.

Unfortunately, Kíli was captain of the Archery team at school and had keen eyes. The moment he spotted Frodo’s little brown head he was shouting in glee, waving to them.

“Mister Boggins! Frodo!” he shouted, and heads turned to them in curiosity and interest. To have all that attention on him turned Frodo shy extremely fast, and he hid behind his Uncle as they finally arrived at the table and Bilbo was able to set up the spread he had brought along.

Fíli and Kíli bounded over, looking rather pleased to see some of their favourite items being lined up on the table. When they saw Frodo peeking out from behind Bilbo’s leg they tried to coax him over, but failed when more of the guests came to the table.

It seemed the man with the odd, almost star shaped, hair would be the one to get the little one out from behind Bilbo however. He squatted down and held out his hands for Frodo to see. With a flick of his wrist, he made a coin appear in his fingers, and Frodo seemed fascinated almost immediately.

“Magic?” he inquired, little head tilted in question.

“Just a little slight of the hand,” he grinned, taking a liking to Frodo already.

Thorin made his way to the front of the crowd of guests, looking a little disgruntled as he finally made his way up. When Bilbo spotted him he sighed in relief, and smiled an apologetic smile.

“Sorry we were late. One of my ovens decided to give out this morning,” he sighed. Thorin shook his head.

“It’s alright. I was beginning to think you wouldn’t show. That would have been rather embarrassing,” he rose an eyebrow at Bilbo. Bilbo looked down, away from those blue eyes.

“Yes, well, it would have been rude of me not to show, yes?” he huffed. He looked at Frodo whose wide eyes were trained on the man who kept pulling things seemingly from nowhere. He was quite taken by the apparent “magic.”

“This is a cousin by marriage, Nori Ri,” Thorin introduced. The man, Nori, stood when he heard his name, nodding to Bilbo.

“Pleasure to meet you,” he said, holding out his hand. Bilbo took it and shook, noticing Nori’s firm handshake.

“Bilbo Baggins, and this is my nephew Frodo,” Bilbo nudged Frodo forth. Frodo stepped up, a little braver than before. Nori smiled down at the lad, producing a gold coin from somewhere on his person and giving it to Frodo.

“Just for you,” he winked, and then stood straight again. Frodo’s eyes were wide as he stared at the coin in his hands and then watched as Nori retreated to a group of men on the other side of the huge yard.

Bilbo nudged Frodo and the boy quickly shouted a slightly rushed out “Thank you!” which made Nori glance back and smile a little more. Thorin rose a questioning eyebrow and then gestured with his head for Bilbo to walk with him. Bilbo did so, still holding on to Frodo’s hand since he didn’t want the little one getting lost in the huge yard.

It would seem, however, that Bilbo didn’t have to worry about that. Fíli and Kíli appeared seemingly from nowhere and picking little Frodo up. Frodo squealed and giggled as Fíli hoisted him over his shoulder. Kíli smiled around a mouthful of cupcakes and Bilbo knew they had only found him and Frodo after spotting the table of baked goods.

“We’ll take Master Frodo off your hands, Mister Boggins!” Kíli saluted, Frodo waved to Bilbo from over Fíli’s shoulder.

“We’re gonna go adventuring Uncle!” he declared. Bilbo wasn’t sure if he wanted Frodo “adventuring” with Fíli and Kíli. The boys meant well but they could be rather wild at times.

“Uncle, don’t pressure him into anything he doesn’t want to do,” Fíli gave Thorin a rather pointed look. Thorin rose an eyebrow, looking unimpressed almost, and would have replied had Fíli and Kíli not run off. Frodo waved to them until they disappeared in the crowd of people.

Bilbo and Thorin stood together in relative silence for a moment before Thorin cleared his throat. Bilbo glanced up at him and took a deep breath. He plastered on a good natured smile and looked around.

“Well, it seems to be a nice party so far,” he said as a conversation starter.

“Yes, I made it a point to make it so,” Thorin nodded. He looked around and spotted a group of family and friends standing by the drinks table. He saw an opportunity and looked back at Bilbo.

“Come with me, there are a few people I think you would enjoy meeting.” He started moving forward, expecting Bilbo to follow, and wasn’t disappointed when he looked back.

They came upon the group and Bilbo spotted Nori from before. Nori caught his eye and smiled at him, making Bilbo feel slightly less awkward about the entire situation.

“Everyone, this is Bilbo Baggins. He is the one who made the dessert this evening. Bilbo, these are my cousins,” Thorin began.

“No need to introduce us, we can do that ourselves!” A man with a rather odd hat grinned. He reached a hand out and Bilbo took it. “Bofur, pleasure to meet you. This is my cousin Bifur.”

The fellow standing next to Bofur looked at Bilbo and nodded his head at him, however he made no move to take Bilbo’s hand. Bofur leaned in a bit to whisper, “He doesn’t speak a lick of English, mind you, so don’t worry too much about whether or not you’re being rude.” He leaned back a bit. “He really enjoyed those blueberry tarts over there.”

Bofur stood back and Nori pushed two people forward this time, one that glared vehemently back at the man and the other looking extremely shy. The shyer one had red hair that looked the same as Nori’s, so Bilbo figured he was Nori’s brother. The older man had gray hair, but he looked a lot like the other so he figured they were all related.

“These are my brothers—” Nori was cut off by a pointed glare from the older one.

“I can introduce myself, thank you,” he snapped. He turned back to Bilbo and smiled, taking Bilbo’s hand and shaking it. “Dori Ri. This is our younger brother, Ori.”

The youngest one, Ori, looked up at Bilbo and gave him a small smile. Bilbo smiled back, nodding his head politely. “Very nice to meet the both of you.”

“Oh, yes, certainly a pleasure!” Ori nodded back at him. “You’re rather excellent at making these treats, I must say—” At that point he held up a small plate that had one of Bilbo’s signature Apple-cinnamon rolls on it, “—they’re very delicious!”

Bilbo felt his cheeks turn pink at the compliment. He had never been very good at taking them. His smile turned sheepish as he muttered out a stuttered “thank you” at the praise. Ori seemed delighted to give it to him, if anything. It didn’t take long for them to go into a bit of conversation on the topic of recipes—Bilbo didn’t really give anything away though. He gave Ori simple tips on what would make his recipes taste better and what to avoid in certain dishes. Ori pulled out a little journal and took down the tips eagerly, thanking Bilbo for them.

Not too much longer after Bilbo had given Ori his last bit of advice, Thorin pulled Bilbo away and toward his next set of cousins. Glóin and Óin were brothers. Óin was mostly deaf, so he did more signing than actual speaking, and was surprised to see that Bilbo could sign certain phrases back to him (words like “it’s nice to meet you” and “thank you for the compliment”; there were a few around the shire who were deaf as well and visited the shop often, he and Frodo had learned a bit of sign language together).

Glóin was large with fiery red hair, and was extremely enthusiastic about meeting Bilbo. He shook the smaller man’s hand with vigour and laughed when Bilbo smiled sheepishly (holding his hand and trying to regain the feeling in his fingers). The larger man patted Bilbo’s back and, like a few before him, complimented Bilbo’s baking skills and then asked him what he knew about weapons and whatnot.

“Weapons?” Bilbo had partially squeaked out, surprised to hear the word.

“Yes! Things like axes and swords and knives!” Glóin laughed. Bilbo shook his head.

“I don’t really know anything about weapons.” Well, he knew about _conkers_ , but those really couldn’t be considered _weapons_ of all things (though they could certainly be _used_ like one; his cousins had proven this to him many times).

“Well, if you ever get interested in them and would like some training with a sword or other, just let me know!” Glóin winked at him and Bilbo had to wonder if he was all there in the head to be offering someone from the Shire, more specifically Hobbiton, lessons in sword wielding.

Thorin pulled him away from Glóin then, looking skeptically at his cousin, and pushed him over to an older man with white hair and an even whiter beard. He looked rather kind, like a wise grandfather that would always know more about the world than he would ever be willing to let on, and Bilbo found himself relaxing in his company a bit.

“Bilbo, this is my financial advisor and cousin, Balin Fundinson,” Thorin introduced, and Bilbo shook the man’s hand.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” he said with a bit of a suspicious smile. Balin seemed to know the root of his suspicion and patted his hand reassuringly.

“Don’t worry, laddie,” he said, “you’re here to have fun. Not get any more offers, requests, or _demands_ ”—he sent a pointed glare Thorin’s way here—“about your shop.”

Thorin even looked a little sheepish at that, shrugging his large shoulders a bit in a “can you blame me” type of way. Balin ignored him, instead making sure Bilbo was having a good time.

“I am, really. The entire event is absolutely wonderful,” Bilbo looked around, “my nephew is here somewhere as well, and I can only hope he’s enjoying himself too.”

“If he’s with Fíli and Kíli I can assure you he is,” Balin chuckled. Bilbo found he rather liked Balin; they could have pleasant conversation together about almost anything. Balin had been a teacher for quite a few years before he had come to work for Erebor Industries, and he had knowledge on a wide range of topics.

Before long Thorin was pulling Bilbo away. Bilbo gave Balin his card, just in case the older man ever wanted to come by and talk or anything, and then Thorin was pulling toward the buffet table. He blushed a bright pink when his stomach gave a loud rumble at the sight of food, which reminded him that he had skipped lunch _and_ tea that day. The food would most definitely be welcome in his system.

Piling his plate up a bit with mainly fruits and veggies, Bilbo started a bit of conversation with his host.

“Your family is rather large,” he commented, staring about the backyard at all the people he hadn’t met yet.

“It’s mostly extended family and the like,” Thorin shrugged. He was standing directly in front of Bilbo, though Bilbo didn’t know that it was so he would be blocked from view (Thorin’s form did blot out Bilbo like the clouds did the sun).

They talked about little things for a while, the weather, how Thorin was liking Hobbiton, their respective nephews adjustment to schooling, little things like that until they came back to the topic of Thorin’s company. By then Bilbo had finished what was on his plate but didn’t move to eat anything more.

“Your company—it’s a family business I’m guessing?” Bilbo was asking now.

“Yes. The company was my father’s, and his father’s before him, and so on.” Thorin looked around, seeming distracted now. He was beginning to fidget in his place, glancing left and right occasionally. Bilbo wondered what was wrong, and voiced as much when Thorin grabbed his wrist and began pulling him away from the table.

Thorin didn’t reply immediately, choosing instead to head toward the weeping willow in the back of the yard and push Bilbo beneath it. They were (mostly) hidden from view at this point, and the loud music and talking was easier to drown out here than it was in the open. Bilbo took a on the bench, looking up at Thorin who seemed a bit more relaxed now than he had been before.

“What’s wrong? You seemed rather disgruntled,” Bilbo asked, watching Thorin. Thorin let out a long sigh and then sat down next to Bilbo. Bilbo had to squash a blush at their close proximity almost immediately.

“My brother has not shown his face yet, you see. Which leads me to believe one of two things,” Thorin pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Which would be…” Bilbo prompted him to continue, wondering what could be so bad about Thorin’s brother. If he was anything like Thorin than certainly he would be pleasant to be around, wouldn’t he?

“One, he has already spotted you and is plotting something, or two, he is too distracted looking for me to notice that I’m with you,” Thorin ticked the reasons off on his fingers before curling his hand into a tight fist. He stared for a while at the ring on his hand and then let it fall to the bench. He looked back up at Bilbo.

“Well shouldn’t I meet him as well?” Bilbo’s brow furrowed. “We might as well face the inevitable, shouldn’t we?”

“No, no. My brother is… A little eccentric,” Thorin tried to explain.

Bilbo snorted at that. “My mother used to tell me that eccentric was just another word for “crazy” you know.”

Thorin cracked a smile at that, chuckling just a bit. “Yes, my brother can be a little crazy at times. But he means well, usually. He just doesn’t always know how to go about things.”

Bilbo hummed, knowing exactly what Thorin meant by that. Essentially, Thorin had just explained Bilbo’s mother rather well. She had always meant well in what she did. She simply hadn’t known that there was a right way and a wrong way to go about things. Instead, she had preferred to make her own way. It was one of the reasons why his father had fell so hard for her when they were in high school.

They sat in comfortable silence for a long while before Bilbo picked up on the sound of his nephew calling for him. He looked back to Thorin, who hadn’t heard the noise, and almost felt bad for what he had to say next.

“It would appear my nephew is looking for me,” he said as he stood. Thorin rose an eyebrow in question, prepared to mention that he didn’t hear any yelling, until the sound of an eight year old shouting “UNNNNCLEEEE BIIIIIIILBOOOOOO” at the top of his lungs carried over the music.

“Are you psychic?” Thorin asked, though he didn’t really mean it.

“No, just have extraordinary hearing. Runs in the family.” Bilbo smiled as he stepped out of from beneath the willow and—

—ran right into someone. Stumbling a bit, he apologized almost immediately, even as the person turned around. Bilbo had to stop and do a bit of a double take before he glanced back and saw Thorin emerging from the same place he had come from, and then he looked back at the person and noticed that he was blonde instead of dark-haired like Thorin. Which led Bilbo to believe that this person who was almost identical to the owner of Erebor Industries was his brother.

“Ah, Thorin,” the man completely overlooked Bilbo, seeing Thorin who sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Frerin,” Thorin greeted, standing directly behind Bilbo now, and it’s only just occurred to the poor baker that he’s almost sandwiched between them.

“Um, excuse me?” Bilbo piped in, interrupting the almost staring contest the two brothers were having. Frerin glanced down first, and looked surprised to see Bilbo standing there.

“Why, hello there!” Frerin took a step back to get a better look at Bilbo. “I didn’t even see you there. What is your name?”

“I think,” Thorin cut in, “It is more polite to introduce yourself before you ask someone their name, brother.”

Frerin looked up with a bit of a sharp glare sent his brother’s way but it smoothed out into a smile as he looked back down at Bilbo again.

“I’m Frerin Durin, Thorin’s younger brother,” he held out his hand for Bilbo to take. Bilbo did so, noticing how Frerin’s hand made his seem absolutely tiny in comparison. Just like Thorin’s did.

“Bilbo Baggins,” Bilbo smiled. Frerin scrutinized his face a bit, searching for what, Bilbo had no idea. After a while of staring Thorin cleared his throat, and Frerin broke out into a grin.

“So you’re the one my brother now fancies?” he asked suddenly. Bilbo turned a bright pink at that question, looking back at Thorin, who had turned the slightest bit pink as well.

“Frerin!” Thorin scolded, and the other man only laughed, shrugging a bit.

“Did you honestly expect me _not_ to ask that?” Frerin snorted.

“I expected you to have a few _manners_ ,” Thorin retorted.

Before Frerin could get out a reply, preferably a snarky one, there was another loud shout of “UNNNNNNCLEEE BIIIIIIIIL _BOOOOOOO_!” which was Bilbo’s cue to slip from between the two brothers.

“It seems my nephew is still searching for me,” he smiled sheepishly. “I should find him.”

“Is he the little one with Fíli and Kíli?” Frerin asked. Bilbo blinked; the younger Durin brother must have seen Frodo then.

“Yes, he is.” Bilbo looked around, wanting to see if Frodo was close or not.

“Check the fountain. Last I saw Fíli and Kíli were showing him how to fish.” Frerin smirked a bit at this, even as Thorin bristled and hurried toward where his nephews had last been spotted.

“They had better not be fishing in that fountain! Those were _mother’s_ favourite fish!”

Bilbo followed right behind him, hoping to whatever deity that was out there that Frodo hadn’t actually been fishing in the fountain because the fish themselves had probably cost a lot of money that Bilbo simply did not have to pay for them should any harm come to them.

\------

As it would happen, Frodo had fallen _into_ the fountain, and that was why he had been calling for Bilbo, because at that point he was soaking wet and ready to go home. Bilbo had tsked at his nephew, an unimpressed look on his face even as he dried Frodo’s hair with the towel Thorin had provided him with. He felt bad that they had to leave early, but he wanted to get Frodo into some dry clothing so that the lad wouldn’t catch a cold.

Thorin escorted them to the front gate, his nephews following behind him with wounded puppy dog stares after the scolding Thorin had given them for allowing Frodo to fall into the fountain, especially after seeing how badly Frodo had been in tears afterwards. The little boy’s eyes were red from crying and he was sniffling as Bilbo carried him out to the Gamgees’ car.

When they reached said car, Bilbo turned back to Thorin.

“The party was lovely, even though our time was cut short,” he smiled. Thorin managed a small smile of his own, his fingers twitching to do something he knew he couldn’t.

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, Mister Baggins,” he replied, before his eyes settled on Frodo, who was snuggled against Bilbo, still wrapped in the towel Thorin had given him. Frodo noticed his stare immediately and turned pink, still embarrassed about having fallen into the fountain. Thorin chuckled a bit.

“Next time, be wary of “adventuring” with Fíli and Kíli,” he said as advice. Frodo looked to the two who still felt bad about allowing Frodo to fall in, and then nodded.

“Okay, Mr. Durin,” he mumbled. “Bye, Fíli… Bye Kíli…”

Fíli and Kíli chorused a goodbye in turn, as Bilbo strapped Frodo into his car seat and then got into the car himself. He waved goodbye to the Durins and then pulled off, heading down the drive and out the gate. It wasn’t long before he disappeared down the road.

Thorin turned back to his nephews then, his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised at the both of them. “I hope you two know what this means in regards to your chores around the house.”

“Aww, Uncle!”

\------

Bilbo didn’t see Thorin again until a week later, while he was in the grocery store picking up dinner for him and Frodo that night. They bumped into each other, quite literally, in the produce section.

“Oh I am so sor—Thorin?” Bilbo blinked when he saw the other man. Thorin stared at him as well for a bit, before he remembered himself and helped Bilbo up. Thorin cleared his throat a bit.

“Hello, Bilbo,” he greeted.

“Hello to you, too. Sorry about that just now,” Bilbo apologized, but Thorin waved it off.

“Ah, it was equally my fault,” he shook his head. He looked around, and Bilbo shuffled his feet a bit. They stood in a somewhat awkward silence for a bit before Bilbo finally said to himself “to hell with all this” and looked Thorin straight in the eye.

“Would you like to go out some time?” He asked.

Thorin looked surprised to hear him say the words, but he recovered easily and a soft smile took over on his features. Bilbo felt his heart flutter a bit at the change in Thorin’s features.

“I would love to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is much appreciated. I spent a good week or so trying to write this and the original idea started on my cellphone (as most things do). I also may be considering writing something of a sequel as well, but I can't guarantee that to be totally honest with you.
> 
> Edit: I'm not used to writing romance in all honesty, but I think I'll give this another chapter to kind of show you all Thorin and Bilbo's encounters. I've got those actually fleshed out (on my phone of course) and I'll only be able to write them after I get to Chicago tonight, and I probably won't post them until tomorrow morning. But know that I do plan on it! As for the sequel, well... Don't hold your breath, yeah?


	2. Exciting Encounters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are the in-between encounters that got Bilbo and Thorin to where they are. I told you guys I was gonna write and post them! Granted, i was supposed to post them the morning of the fourth, but think of it this way! All the suspense has led up to this!

“You-!”

When Bilbo first spotted Thorin outside of his shop, it was at the grocery store, buying vegetables for his and Frodo’s dinner that night. Thorin was looking around with Fíli and Kíli somewhere behind him grabbing cereal and other miscellaneous items. When he looked up and spotted Bilbo, a glare instantly crossed his features.

“Baggins,” he growled out, and Bilbo scoffed.

“I didn’t realize big shots such as yourself shopped in places like this, _Durin_ ,” Bilbo spat.

“You say that as though I’m too busy to spend time with my nephews, _Baggins_ ,” Thorin replied in the same tone. They stared each other down for a bit before Thorin started.

“If you would be a _rational_ adult instead of an irrational one you could make a bit more money!”

“I don’t need _more_ money; my shop isn’t for sale and there’s nothing you can do to change that!”

“I only want to help you make a business investment!”

“A _business investment?!_ You’re trying to take my shop from me!”

“Only to help you!”

“Stubborn fool!”

“Confounded idiot!”

_“Obnoxious asshole!”_

_“Irrational moron!”_

“ **MORON?! I SWEAR I’M GOING TO SHOVE THAT BASKET RIGHT UP YOUR—”**

Bilbo didn’t exactly get to finish his sentence as someone suddenly gasped his name. Bilbo turned to see his cousin, Azalea Baggins, covering her son’s ears, a bit of a shocked look on her face. Bilbo turned the worst shade of red at realizing that he’d very nearly threatened Thorin in public, extremely loudly, _in the middle of the grocery store in front of his cousins._ This was going to be all over town. Lobelia would probably come knocking down his door demanding to know if he’d actually done it.

At the moment though, he was still a little too angry to care about the consequences. He merely finished his shopping as quickly as possible, paid for his things (the damned self-checkout got on his nerves a bit though; he’d scanned the damned lettuce at least for times already!) and left without another word to the idiot that was Thorin Durin (of course he greeted Fíli and Kíli, though, albeit a little tight lipped).

\------

The second time went significantly better than the first, because Bilbo ignored Thorin’s presence completely. He didn’t look at Thorin, he didn’t speak to him, he didn’t even acknowledge his presence. And it worked out pretty well, too, because Thorin left him alone as well, saying not a single word to disturb Bilbo of his shopping at all. It was a much more enjoyable time, but every once in a while he found himself tempted to sneak a peek at the other man (and then scolded himself for even _thinking_ of doing such a thing!).

Bilbo figured he could do the same thing the third time, but found out that it was impossible when Thorin started muttering something and Bilbo had brushed pass him in time to hear Thorin say something about “insufferable idiots”. At that point, Bilbo bristled and rounded on the other man, once again raising his voice possibly a few decibels too high for the place they were in.

“Who are you calling an insufferable idiot you daft bastard?!”

“I don’t believe I was speaking to you!”

“You were most certainly speaking _about_ me!”

“And if I was?!”

“Keep my name off your tongue you—”

“Bilbo Baggins! I will not have you disrespecting my shop with that kind of language!” Bilbo’s cousin, Fredegar Baggins, shouted. “Either fix your language or the both of you, _get out of my shop!_ ”

Bilbo stormed out without another word, because he was growing tired of this simpleton making an ass of him in front of his relatives. He didn’t even look back as he left.

\------

The fourth time Bilbo bumped into Thorin, it was inside of his favourite little café book shop. Bilbo had ordered some of the coffee and picked up the book he’d been reading from one of the shelves and was prepared to sit down when he bumped into Thorin, nearly spilling his coffee all over himself. He steeled his gaze and was prepared to say something when he remembered just where he was, as well as the no shouting rule.

Moving quickly Bilbo glanced around and then practically shoved (okay, so he actually _did_ shove) Thorin over to the little corner table he usually relaxed at. He sat down his book and coffee and began whispering harshly.

“If you get me kicked out of my favourite shop,” he began in almost a low hiss, “I will make you regret it!”

“Oh really?” Thorin snorted, seeming unbelieving.

“I know my way around a knife, Thorin Durin, and don’t think I won’t chop off your precious bits if you don’t _keep quiet!_ ” He jabbed a finger into Thorin’s chest. “If you want to fight with me here, you’d better do it by sliding angry notes across the table!”

And with that, Bilbo turned away and took his seat, opening his book and paying absolutely no mind to Thorin, who huffed a bit but walked away. This left Bilbo sighing in quiet happiness, up until Thorin returned and took the seat across from him. Bilbo glared long and hard at him but Thorin would not be moved, even going so far as opening up his laptop and starting to do work on it. Bilbo muttered to himself as he saw Thorin do this, and figured two could play at this game. It had been his table first, and he _would_ _not_ be moved.

\------

The fifth time they bumped into each other changed their entire dynamic.

Bilbo had just entered the school for the parent-teacher association high school dance, which he had been invited to, a batch of cookies made up for the evening. He’d only just sat the plate down on the table and turned around to sit when he spotted Thorin coming in. Cursing, he steadfastly ignored the other man, avoiding him as much as possible to make sure that they didn’t end up in the same company, or worse, in the company of others and forced to talk to one another.

It worked out well for most of the evening, and Bilbo managed to avoid both Thorin, _and_ his cousin Lobelia Sackville-Baggins for as long as possible. They were beginning to reach the closing of the evening when the worst thing happened to Bilbo.

He had been loitering on the other side of the gym, scoping out the area for Thorin. When he hadn’t spotted him, he saw a path straight through the crowd of parents and teachers, and quickly bee lined through, intending to make his way to the food table, grab the now empty (he was sure of it; none of the stuff he ever brought ever had anything left on it when he picked it up at the end of the meetings) plate and leave before anyone noticed he had slipped out.

Unfortunately, just as he was practically making a run for it, he bumped straight into someone and went tilting forward until they crashed into the floor, Bilbo on top of the other person, their bodies slotted almost perfectly together in an unnatural way. When Bilbo looked up to apologize, he saw astonished blue eyes staring into his own warm hazel ones, and his face turned an almost instant shade of pink as they laid on the floor, staring at each other for what felt like an eternity but was only a minute or so before a _screech_ sounded.

“BILBO BAGGINS YOU DISGUSTING HUMAN BEING!”

The sound of Bilbo’s least liked cousin, Lobelia, shouting made Bilbo scramble up from his spot on top of Thorin, his face red with embarrassment, his ears burning. Thorin stood a little more slowly, reaching a hand back to rub at the back of his head, and Bilbo had the sudden urge to apologize for possibly giving Thorin a concussion. Lobelia took it as a stuttered out apology to her, _for whatever reason_ , and scoffed at him.

“I should have guessed you would be nothing but trouble! I kept telling Iris that letting a _fag_ in here would cause nothing but mischief!” Lobelia practically shrieked.

Bilbo looked outraged at hearing Lobelia call him such a derogatory term, but he didn’t get to defend himself before Thorin swooped in and did it for him.

“Excuse you, Madame, but if anyone here is causing in trouble it is only yourself,” he growled, glaring at the woman as though if he did it hard enough she would burst into flames. Bilbo almost wished she could.

“And just who are you? His _faggot_ boyfriend?” Lobelia sneered.

“I don’t think it matters who I am, since I was asked to be _security_ for the dance and to escort out anyone making an unnecessary scene, which you are doing.” Thorin grabbed Lobelia’s upper arm, half walking, half dragging her to the door and then out of it. Bilbo, unthinking at the time, just stood there as Thorin pushed Lobelia out into the parking lot and then slammed the door closed after her, smirking at the automatic lock went into place and left Lobelia in the night air.

Thorin walked back over to Bilbo and, with a concerning look, brushed him off a bit and placed his hands on Bilbo’s shoulders.

“Are you alright?” he asked. Bilbo nodded dumbly, before a smile broke out on Thorin’s face and he turned back to the people all around them, giving them a thumbs up.

It wasn’t long before Kíli came bouncing to Bilbo’s side, shaking his arm and grinning excitedly at the baker. Bilbo stared at the teen before snapping back to reality. Kíli was going on about how ‘awesome’ his Uncle Thorin looked after saving Bilbo from that witch when it suddenly occurred to him that Thorin actually _had_ just saved him from Lobelia. He needed to go home. He needed to go home and try not to think about a hard body beneath his, clear, blue eyes, and the man that had just helped him, plate be damned.

\------

It wasn’t long before their usual shouting matches turned into simple banter that consisted mainly of;

“Durin.”

“Baggins.”

“Your hair is looking particularly thin today. Beginning to go bald, are we?”

“Your clothing is beginning to look rather filthy. Ever heard of cleaning up?”

“Coming from the one who hasn’t shaved in months. Maybe I should help you out with that.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Wouldn’t I?”

With plenty of smirks, the occasional slap of hands when Thorin reaches over to fiddle with his things, and even a few winks here and there. At one point, Thorin learned a valuable lesson after insulting Bilbo on his height, a pretty low blow that landed him a slap on the face with pair of leather gloves. After that Thorin made sure nothing was within Bilbo’s reach when he insulted his height (and even then Bilbo pulled something from his pocket, and Thorin learned to pick his battles).

On particularly stressful days, when Bilbo’s had to deal with someone like Lobelia, or Lobelia herself, they don’t bicker at all. Thorin’s learned to recognize when Bilbo doesn’t want to be bothered, and when he notices, they simply sit together in comfortable silence, the “tap tap tap” of keys on a laptop soothing to Bilbo’s ears while the “flip flip” of book pages is calming to Thorin’s. They’ve learned to compromise for each other, much to Bilbo’s surprise.

It’s odd, the way that Thorin slowly becomes a part of his day, just as Fíli or Kíli is. Their encounters had slowly become something he looked forward to; something that made his heart speed up a bit when he felt like he would be seeing Thorin soon. If he didn't see the taller man at all during the day, the entire day felt incomplete, like he had left one of his ovens on. Thorin hadn’t asked him once about his shop since the night he’d thrown Lobelia out of the school dance. He had seen Thorin in a new light then, and since Thorin wasn’t bothering him about it anymore, it felt nice just speaking to him.

Especially when they were sitting in the little café that was, Bilbo found out, situated right between his shop and Thorin’s home. There, they didn’t fight at all. They sat together and talked quietly about little things; the weather, traffic, their respective nephews, and each other. It was interesting getting to know Thorin, because Thorin wasn’t as complicated an individual as Bilbo had first assumed him to be. Thorin enjoyed some of the same things he did. Good food, a warm hearth, and familial comfort at the end of a long, hard day was something they had in common.

Slowly, Bilbo’s feelings toward Thorin shifted away from “I dislike you and wish you’d disappear” to “you’re interesting and I like that” and to be interesting to Bilbo Baggins was the same as holding his affections. Thorin felt about the same toward him, because Bilbo was quick witted and easy to talk to since he didn’t attempt to kiss Thorin’s ass once. He told him the truth and didn’t cut corner (even if it hurt occasionally) which made him the only person that spoke to him honestly outside his family.

When Kíli told Thorin that Bilbo would be joining them at the party, he was ecstatic. He’d seen an opportunity and he’d taken it. But he hadn’t moved fast enough (or maybe it was all his nephews’ fault) and lost his chance when Bilbo had had to take Frodo home.

When Thorin saw him again, it was a week later, in the same grocery store as that first out-of-bakery-shop encounter. Bilbo had bumped into him and they had stood for a bit, Thorin working up the courage to ask him to dinner or something, when Bilbo had asked first. Thorin catalogued the day into the back of his mind, labeling it one of the best days he’s ever had, right next to Fíli and Kíli’s birthdays.


End file.
